


The Swan (remix of Break Your Chains)

by blacktail_chorus



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ballet, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, overcoming abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13905927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktail_chorus/pseuds/blacktail_chorus
Summary: Merlin is the young, brilliant principal dancer at the Royal Camelot Ballet. His star is set to rise, and rise, until the day it all comes crashing down.





	The Swan (remix of Break Your Chains)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Break Your Chains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814778) by [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly). 



**Emrys Dazzles in Daring Turn as Titular "Swan"**

CAMELOT -- Think you know _Swan Lake_? Think again. The Royal Camelot Ballet's new production of the well-loved classic turns convention on its head. Director Leon DeGrace's bold vision rests on the shoulders of a 17-year old--

[clipping torn away]

\---

Emrys glided onstage to a smattering of anticipatory applause. No, not applause--it was the wind in the rushes ringing the lake. A pale moon stared down. He was Odette, ruffling the water's surface with a swan's stroke and facing another terrible transformation. He had long ceased to feel joy when nightfall returned his human form. Arms and legs were Rothbart's cruel joke, for there was no one else to see them, and no reason for him to use them alone in the forest at night.

Yet he still stretched, and flexed his fingers, and then whirled in fright at the sound of a twig snapping in the brush.

A man emerged--the _prince?_ \--and Odette had the heady sensation of peering over an edge and finding something new.

\---

**Fantastical New Ballet Showcases Emrys's Raw Power**

CAMELOT -- The Royal Camelot Ballet has pulled out all the stops for _The Last Dragonlord_ , from a grand orchestration for Gwen Smith's explosive score to a breathtaking dragon puppet that takes flight onstage. As ever, though, it is principle dancer Emrys who carries the show and vaults it into the realm of an instant classic. 

\---

His quad muscles burned. His last chain of grand jetes ended in a tortured hold: eight beats to represent the Dragonlord's hesitation before finally rising to set the Great Dragon free. Trumpets blared as sweat trickled down the crease of his back.

It was a good thing, he thought, that his character spent most of his time either sad or in a rage. He simply wouldn't have been able to conjure a bright-eyed hero, even for twice the pay. When he'd accepted the position as principal dancer for the RCB just over a year ago, he'd never imagined that the honor would come to _this_ : the press, the contract, the ways in which his body was no longer his own.

The RCB's wealthy patrons had the idea that dancers were like children of old: meant to be seen and not heard. And so he had to smile in a certain way at galas, and stick to approved conversational scripts at fundraisers, and could not ever, under any circumstances, laugh or joke or move in a way that could be considered _flamboyant_. He was fundamentally a prop.

Of course, a few public engagements each month would not be so great a burden if those expectations had not also begun to swamp his time on the stage. Everything had become political: production choices, roles, choreography... the art had disappeared under the weight of "patron relations".

His right toe hurt. He'd injured it over a month ago, but the ache just wouldn't go away. He hoped Val would have something for it after the show. He knew his teacher would not approve of his boyfriend's pills and powders, but really, the old man worried too much. They just took the edge off. Let him think clearly. Gave him a bit of energy, or helped him relax.

Val took such good care of him.

He took a deep breath. One beat more. He'd made up his mind: when he got off the stage tonight, he would tell Val _yes_. He'd go with him to America. He'd leave the RCB's false pretension and go someplace real, and they'd start their lives together fresh. He could front the money for a flat from his savings, and then--

The music changed. He almost missed his cue, but muscle memory surged to the fore and propelled him towards the climax. If his efforts to break the dragon's chains veered a bit towards manic, well, that was only in keeping with his character.

\---

**Last Bow for _The Last Dragonlord_?**

CAMELOT -- After closing a sold-out run to great acclaim, superstar dancer Emrys is nowhere to be found. The Royal Camelot Ballet released a statement last week quietly replacing Emrys with veteran dancer Lancelot du Lac at the top of the upcoming _Cinderella_ billet. The RCB provided no explanation or comment, though interviews with RCB staff indicate that Emrys has not been seen in the studio for over a month. Where can he have gone?

\---

_Fourteen Months Later_

Merlin pulled the door shut with shaking hands. He froze and held his breath in the dark, damp hallway, sure that the pounding of his heart would be loud enough to rouse Val through the walls. 

A moment passed, and then another. In truth, Val had come home too drunk to notice much of anything--that's why Merlin had made his move. Last time he'd tried, Val had caught him and... the less he thought about that, the better.

This wasn't the first time he'd left. Once, he'd made it to the end of the block before the crushing fear of isolated helplessness had driven him back inside. Before that, he'd gotten all the way down the stairs at least twice. But this time--this time was going to stick.

He had shoes on his feet, and a jacket, and five dollars he'd managed to sneak from Val's wallet. The night was warm. He would be ok.

He touched the tender bruise on his cheek. _I don't deserve this,_ he reminded himself. _After this,_ anything _will be ok._

And he slipped out the building and onto the street.

\---

Two months later, he saw the boom box.

It appeared in the window of the pawn shop he walked past on his way to Taleisin's. He volunteered there in exchange for a meal and a shower, staffing the front desk of the tiny LGBT resource center or emptying the waste baskets or whatever else Tal found for him to do. He used the desk phone to call his mother to maintain the fiction of his happy New York life.

If he told her the truth, she'd be on the next flight out. He knew that. He also knew she could tell he was lying. But how could he let her see what he'd become? How could he let anyone from before see? The Royal Ballet star, now homeless, hungry, a recovering addict...

 _That's right,_ the memory of Val's voice flooded his mind. _You're nothing. Nothing without me, at any rate. You couldn't hack it at the RCB, and you're lucky I take care of you here. Useless. Get up and--_

He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in slowly through his nose. He counted to ten. He exhaled. He did it again, and again. The want, the _need_ for just one benzo... just to get calmed down... he dug his nails into his palms and focused on deep, even breaths.

And when he opened his eyes again, the boom box had appeared as if by magic before him. It was huge, boxy and metallic, with two cassette decks and big, round speakers that looked like buggy eyes. It was ridiculous. He couldn't help it; he laughed.

Three days later, Merlin walked into the shop with the stash he kept in an old sock and spent every cent on the boom box--giant D batteries included.

\---

It was an investment, he told himself. He made ok money with a cardboard sign and an overturned hat, but buskers earned much better cash. He could pick up some cheap cassettes from the used section of the music store the next neighborhood over and-- and--

The boom box languished in the back room of the resource center for another full month.

It had been so long. So long since he'd done anything but react to things--to a director, to circumstance, to Val... 

So long since he'd tried to tell the world a bit of what he had to say. 

Just what did he have to say? 

\---

 _I'm beginning again_ , he said with three glissades on a sticky August morning.

 _I am weak, but I can be strong_ , he said when he moved through the warm-ups his mother had taught him as a boy.

A pirouette: there is still beauty in the world. A fan kick: what I do matters.

I matter.

\---

The benches of Central Park became his practice barre. He bought loose slacks and a pair of slippers, and soon slid into the colorful world of street performers. People _looked_ at him: some bored but appraising, others curious, some (the tourists) with unreserved delight. It was a bit nerve-wracking, actually--he got a hoodie to help hide his face, despite the heat.

But it was also a thrill. He had a role again. He was a Street Artist, a part of the great ballet of work and life that whirled through the city's corridors each day. He had his bench and his box, his music and his sweat, his body and the pavement for a stage.

So he danced.

\---

There was a man. A man in a business suit who _knew_ \--knew who he was, or who he had been. The man was blond, with a prominent nose, and when he'd come back to watch him dance on a second day, Merlin realized he'd been found out.

He'd almost fled, then, convinced some reporter would be lurking in an ambush by his bench. But no reporter emerged. Only the man. The man was entranced--there was no other word for it. Like he couldn't believe his luck at standing so close to-- to _Emrys_ , dancing here, alone, in the park.

The man came back again and again. Until one day, he was gone.

That night, Merlin called his mother.

"Mum," he said softly, apologetic for the late hour.

"i think I want to come home."

\---

**Emrys Set for Solo Engagement**

CAMELOT -- Former principal dancer Emrys returns to the Royal Camelot Ballet theatre for a new performance almost three years after his surprise departure. Billed as an autobiography of his life in dance, the show promises answers to the question of his missing time. Whatever the story, the show is surely not to be missed. Tickets on sale Friday. 

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> So I lied a little bit... if you want to see Merlin and Arthur actually getting together, go read the end of original work! I felt like it was my job to figure out how Merlin ended up on that final stage.
> 
> Thanks to clotpolesonly for a great original. I had a lot of fun reading up on ballet for this. All mistakes are my own. For the purposes of story parallel, let's just pretend that _Swan Lake_ is always the happy version where Odette and the Prince outwit the evil Rothbart and don't die tragically, ok???


End file.
